


It's Not Just You

by inthisdive



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthisdive/pseuds/inthisdive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series; the girls are in high school. Abby and Kristy have turned out to show the boys’ team some love; Abby somehow forgets to watch the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Just You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OzQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/gifts).



* 

It wasn’t that the game was boring; it should have kept Abby’s eyes focused on the field, following the ball-play without blinking, breathing in time to the pounding of base-clearing feet. It should have been like that, but it wasn’t, because Kristy Thomas was sitting two rows in front of her, and her brown hair had been freshly-washed, and her ponytail looked sleek and shone, so softly, in the afternoon light. 

It wasn’t just the hair, either. It was the _suggestion_ that came with it, a suggestion that was almost erotic; Abby wished that the wind would change so she might be able to catch the faintest scent of Kristy’s soap (plain, clean, soap; she never smelled of flowers, of citrus, of rejuvenating crystals), that Kristy would lean forward she might see new blemishes on the back of her neck, that she might be able to track the ones she saw last time at practice. 

When the game ended and she texted Anna to tell her she’d be home later than she planned, Anna replied to ask her how the game was; if there was anything interesting Abby was going to explain in too-thorough detail to her later. Abby didn’t – couldn’t – reply. ‘Kristy Thomas’s hair’ was not an acceptable explanation. 

* 

Abby can’t help but remember exactly when it started, this fascination, this need to catalogue Kristy down to every freckle, every stray hair, dark against her bare legs as she trains on the diamond, that was missed when she shaved her legs. It was a simple moment, a natural moment, and while Abby didn’t like to use the sentimental label-machine of Hallmark and romantic comedies, it kind of applied: she’d just fallen. 

They’d finished practice and Abby had managed an impressive home run. Covered in dust and sneezing, Kristy had come up behind her and thumped her on the back, partly to congratulate her and partly a well intentioned, though painful, attempt to clear her airway. “Nice _job_ , Abby.”

And then she’d slung her arm around Abby’s shoulders and flicked her hand up to brush some dirt from Abby’s freckled cheek, and Abby’s knees weakened and all she could to do reply was laugh in her breathless, hoarse, on-the-verge-of-an-asthma-attack kind of way. 

Kristy, as oblivious to emotion as she’d always been since she and Abby met as thirteen year olds, didn’t notice Abby stumble under her touch; she steamrolled her way out of the moment and back into reality, jogging out onto the field for a warm-down. 

Abby stared after her, and when her throat constricted again, she knew her inhaler wouldn’t fix it.

* 

The bleachers were emptying steadily. The girls’ team had all come to support the boys – a concept Abby hated, because where were they when the girls played? – And they filed past Abby with smiles and offers of a meet-up at Pizza Express. Abby answered them all with a nod and a smile, never quite meeting their eyes, her decline friendly but final.

Someone else was still sitting, too. 

*

It wasn’t until the last person had left that Kristy approached her. Abby looked up and a grin spread across her face; Kristy’s SHS T-shirt had a hole in the seam on her left arm, hinting at the surprisingly vulnerable pinkness underneath.

“Hey, Thomas.” 

“Abby.” Kristy smiled. “You should’ve come sit with me. Some game, huh?”

“Some game,” Abby agreed. As for sitting with Kristy, well, that didn’t always happen. Never truly close, not entirely ever not rivals, they were uncomplicated, easy friends only on the surface. 

“So,” Kristy began, slipping her hands in her pockets, “You hungry?”

Abby shook her head. “The team’s going to get pizza, though. You could go.”

Kristy shook her head in turn, and Abby watched her ponytail, Kristy’s private metronome. “I’ve got Mom’s car. Want a ride home?”

Abby smiled, and before she could help herself her index finger seized a curl, twirling it. “Sounds good.”

*

The drive was shorter than Abby had ever remembered. Weren’t they on the other side of town, miles from SHS? How did it feel like seconds? Why was it that Kristy’s low AM-radio-scratchy-bad-old-music set an atmosphere; why was it that Abby found it endearing that, when she asked Kristy why she didn’t change the station, she just replied “No time”?

And why was it that, when they pulled up in front of her house, she didn’t want to get out? Who could explain this drowning in Kristy thing? 

Kristy turned off the ignition and leaned back in her seat. Outside the car, twilight descended softly; the birds stopped singing. Abby looked at Kristy, Kristy looked at Abby. Weird, warm, silence.

“Hey,” Kristy finally offered, and there was a strain in her voice like it was being pulled up out of her throat, a huskiness Abby had never heard before – and Abby listened to Kristy, listened hard. 

“Yeah?” Abby looked out the window, casual, but curiosity, interest, won out; she turned and looked at Kristy, studied her eyes, the set of her mouth, the forthright, no-nonsense set of her nose. 

“I just,” Kristy said, nodding to herself, one hand tapping out unreadable Morse code on her knee, “There’s this thing.”

“And the winner for most informative sentence…”

“Don’t joke.” Kristy was… pale? Abby blinked, raised her eyebrows, nodded. Kristy was pale. That was new, that was a look to file away and examine later. 

“Abby.” 

“Kristy.”

“I just think that you. Well. What I think – I propose – is… I mean. You…” She sighed, a sharp exhalation, a feeling that Abby knew well: frustration. She shook her head, set her jaw, and glanced at Abby again. “Do you mind if I don’t explain first?”

“Okay.” Abby shrugged. 

And then Kristy leaned forward, grabbed Abby’s face with one hand on each cheek, and kissed her.

*

Twenty minutes later, when Abby walked through her front door, shirt stretched and unstraightened, lips purple, she realized that Kristy never had explained anything after all.

Not that she minded. Kristy’s hair had smelled, so surprisingly, of peaches; she’d left Abby with gift enough to think about, the mystery of Kristy choosing scents, of choosing to make an effort – just maybe – for Abby.

Maybe that was explanation enough.

*  
 _fin_


End file.
